


Mistaken Identity

by kaclydid



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 14:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10596213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaclydid/pseuds/kaclydid
Summary: “Could you do a Thranduil x reader, where they are married, and she is usually always in fancy clothes. One day she tries to get into the throne room in more plain clothing, and the guard doesnt recognize her, so they end up throwing her in the dungeon, and when Thranduil finds out hes enraged, and shes irritated.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Request and double-posted from my tumblr --> anari3l.tumblr.com

You had the entire day off. For once. No responsibilities were nagging at you to be completed. No handmaidens were knocking the doors down at the break of dawn to have a moment of your time, trying to get you prim and proper for the day’s meetings.

Today was one of those days, you laughed to yourself as you settled lower into the fluffy pillows of the bed you shared with your husband, Thranduil. Raising your arms, you stretched under the thick furs of the bed, relishing in the comfortable mattress. 

Sighing, and deciding now was the best time for you to get out of bed, you kicked the covers off and got up, striding across to your vanity. Thranduil had left a small stem of jasmine flowers from the vine just outside the balcony doors laying over your hairbrush, a sentiment he did upon the occasions he rose and started his day before you awoke.

The floor length nightdress you were was comfortable, but you knew you couldn’t stay in your bedclothes all day and would eventually have to dress. Striding to your wardrobe, you found an old pair of leggings and boots, deciding to forgo the entire dress and corset ensemble for the day. 

It had been ages since you had last worn anything other than your expensive gowns, which dripped in shining stones and sequins and were made of the finest silks and cottons. 

To say the least, the threadbare tunic you pulled from the bottom of the wardrobe was disgusting compared to those dresses. 

Dressing quickly, tucking the tunic into the leggings and donning a matching waistcoat, you affixed the shining silver hairpin Thranduil had given you for your last anniversary, pulling your hair out of your face, and smiled to yourself in the mirror. 

If you didn’t have duties to attend to, you were content to sneak about the halls without drawing too much attention to yourself.

Which is exactly what you did. Having so much free time, you were able to go for not only a walk through the lower halls and caverns, listening to the roaring river and falls, but also a short ride out into the woods and back. 

By the time you were striding through the halls after returning, your hair had lost some of its sheen from that morning, instead, playing host to a few stray leaves and twigs which had been caught in the waist length waves, and your tunic and leggings were spotted with dust and dirt. 

Walking the hall towards the throne room, eyes and chin held high out of habit, you came upon the large double, carved wooden doors that would lead you to your husband, and immediately froze, brows knitting together.

“The kitchens are the other way,” the guard to your left started, stepping forward from his post by the door. “The King declared these halls to be kept clear today.”

“I just need to speak with him, actually,” you started, forcing a smile on your features as you took a step towards the doors. “Do open them.”

The guard to your right reached out and grabbed your hand, jerking you away from the door, pushing you away. “The King will not have servants interrupting his business. Go, before he comes!”

“Let me in,” you tried again, fixing a hard glare on the guard that had dared touch you in such a way. “Or so help me--”

“To the dungeons, then!”

“Excuse me?” you squeaked out as your arms were pulled behind you. “You two are going to be in such a shock! Let me into the throne room and you’ll not be punished!”

You knew the trek down to the dungeons by heart, having walked the halls a thousand times over, and every step of the way, you fought against the guards’ holds. Their fingers gripped so hard into your arms that you were sure you’d bruise. No matter how much you argued with them, no matter what they said, it was if they couldn’t hear you. 

As you stumbled into the cell, cursing them as you stood with your back facing the cell, you took a few calming breaths. Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you turned, listening to the guards laugh as they walked back to their post, you found a stray twig in the soft tendrils and tugged it free, tossing it to the side of the cell as you took the few short steps to the iron door. 

******************

Thranduil paced before his throne, a small stack of missives held in his hands as he read through them. Glancing over to the large doors everytime he heard the lock unlatch, he hoped to see your smiling face, but each time he was met with another guard. 

This time, however, it was one of your handmaidens. As the doors closed behind her at the end of the walkway, she stopped, folding her hands in front of her. “Sir …”

“What is it?” Thranduil asked as he turned on his heel and started up the short staircase to his seat. As he settled into the cushion, his gaze narrowed on the young Silvan elf before him. “Well?”

“My King,” she started, bowing slightly, “I was wondering if you had seen the Queen of late? She’s not been in her rooms …”

“She was spending the day on her own,” Thranduil sighed, wishing he could do the same. “Is there something else you needed?”

“N-no, sir,” she nodded, taking a calming breath. “It’s just, her majesty rarely stays out as late as it is …”

Thranduil nodded, turning back to the missives laying over his knee. “Very well,” he hummed, interest in the conversation fading. He knew you -- you’d show yourself eventually. The young handmaiden was still knew, and he knew you favored the young elf over the others, but there was nothing to be done if you didn’t want to be bothered. 

“The Queen has requested the day to herself,” he started after a thick silence. “I expect you to follow her orders.”

“Yes, sir,” the elf started, straightening. “Sorry to have bothered you, my Lord.”

Thranduil waved a hand dismissively as the elf turned and started out of the large room. As the doors closed behind her, Thranduil was so engrossed in the missives once more, he didn’t hear the gossip of the guards just outside the door.

It was hours before Thranduil left his perch on his throne and strode through the large doors, robes flowing behind him as he walked, gaze still on the parchments in his hands. “Have the Queen meet me in my gardens,” he started as a servant stepped up, taking the missives he offered. “We’ll have supper on the terrace this evening.”

“Anything else, sir?”

“That’s all,” Thranduil answered, waving his hand as he continued to walk. 

***************

You sat against the wall, staring straight ahead at the iron bars blocking you in. Every twenty minutes one of the guards would walk past on their rounds. Below you, farther down in the caverns, you could hear the kitchens come to life as they prepared supper, the smell of fresh lembas wafting through the halls. 

Knowing the guard would continue on past your cell without a second glance inside, you waited, counting the steps of their feet as they approached. As they reached your bars, their gaze lifted for a moment, their steps faltering. 

Meeting their gaze, you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, they had turned and continued on, their steps faster than before.

*****************

The young guard continued down into the kitchens, where the staff were preparing the King’s meal. Turning to one of the elves, she started, “Have you seen the Queen today?”

“No,” he answered simply, hauling a small barrel of Dorwinion over his shoulder and stepping past. 

“The guards said they brought a servant down to the dungeons this afternoon,” another started across the room. “She was trying to see the King.”

Standing there, thinking back to the elven maiden sitting in the cells, she was struck with the realization of what she had seen. Before the others could ask what was wrong, she had turned and sprinted out of the room.

Thranduil cursed as he was pulled from his thoughts, striding into the sitting room as the servant answered the door. 

“My Lord, Thranduil!” the guard started, looking relieved to have found him. 

“What is it?” he asked, gae cold as he stared at the guard.

“There’s … there’s something I’ve need to tell you,” she started, flinching under his icy gaze. “About the Queen.”

“And what of her? If she has been hurt ---”

“No, sir! Not hurt!” 

************

The throne room doors burst open as Thranduil walked through them, the two guards that had escorted you down to the dungeons following at his heels. He was furious, his silent rage radiating through the cavern.

“I expect an explanation,” he started, turning as he reached the steps leading to his throne. As neither guard spoke, he glowered. “Now!”

“They were trying to gain entrance, sir!” one started. “You’ve said no visitors … no interruptions!”

“Save for the Queen!” 

At that, the doors opened once more and you strode in. Your expression matched that of Thranduil’s, gaze hard as it narrowed on the guards. The guards however, both shrunk back, realizing what they had unintentionally done. 

Thranduil stood before you, tall, stoic, and angry beyond belief. As his gaze met yours, however, it softened. “I assume you’ve thought of a verdict?” he asked as you stepped to his side. 

Jaw clenched, your gaze fell on the guards as you thought of an answer. Two of your handmaidens, including the young elf that had come to see Thranduil, rushed in, carrying one of your cloaks. As they draped if over your shoulders, you shooed them away, letting the shoulders slump down to hang on your elbows. 

You looked a mess, you had to admit. You still wore the old leggings and boots, the dirt splotches a stark contrast to the silver and blue silk cloak that was now pooled around you. Your hair was tangled and hung limply over your shoulders, and you had a feeling you reeked like the dungeons. All in all, the irritation that as burning just below your skin was about to boil over. 

“I assume you would have thought of a rather pleasant sentence for these two guards, my love,” you started as you smiled up to Thranduil. “After all, I’ve got bruises forming …” you added as you turned back to face them, smile dropping into a firm line.

“My lady, if we had known--”

“Both of you, shut up! Do not dare to speak again” you started, voice strong, ringing through the hall much like Thranduil’s. Both of them flinched at the sound. Although you didn’t yell, you held an authority in your voice that was unmatched. “Insubordination will not be tolerated among the guards.”

“I propose banishment,” Thranduil started calmly as he turned towards you. 

“A simple banishment?” you asked with a slight scoff, but smiling as well, liking the sound of that. “But, my dear, they did not recognize me. They did not listen to me. They dared lay hands on me ... “

Thranduil smirked, and as the small expression was caught by the guards before you, you heard them both hitch a breath for they knew what was coming. 

“I should not have to teach my guards what I look like,” you started, meeting his gaze. “This act cannot be taken lightly!” 

“And what of the guard that found you?” Thranduil asked, ignoring the two elves standing before you for a moment. 

“She will be thanked,” you started. “Perhaps a post at the throne room doors?” 

Thranduil hummed, smiling down to you. “You’re right, banishment is much too … kind.”

“I always am,” you smiled. “I bid you to carry on, then, meleth nin.”

Thranduil nodded, holding your gaze for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the two guards. “I find it exhausting that I have to stand here and speak to two of my guards as if they were mere elflings,” he started, gaze falling to them both, although he kept his chin held high. “As banishment seems too light of a punishment, you will be disgraced in other ways.”

“Stable duty, perhaps? Or they could spend a fortnight in the dungeons? Perhaps longer?” you hummed from your spot behind Thranduil.

“Meleth,” Thranduil started, head turning to his shoulder to address you. Clamping your mouth shut, you crossed your arms, looking as unlike a Queen as you could muster. 

For a moment after turning back to the guards, Thranduil was silent. “A fortnight in the dungeons seems quite cozy compared to what will come after,” he started. “In granting you the use of these halls for another two weeks, I expect not a word to be spoken to any of the guards patrolling the dungeons. I expect not a word to be uttered about the Queen … or what has transpired here today.. I expect not a word of this to travel outside of this room.”

You huffed a breath, smiling slightly as Thranduil looked over his shoulder to you. 

“Afterwards,” he started, glancing fully to you as he continued. “As I have no need for guards that do not obey orders … you will be banished from these woods, and all kingdoms affiliated with this wood will know you are not to be trusted. I will have you disgraced by every elf in Middle Earth with but a quill mark.”

As the guards nodded there heads, bowing them solemnly as they were given their sentences, you smiled, lowering your arms to your sides. 

“I do not wish to lay eyes on you again,” Thranduil stated simply, turning on his heel with a swish of his cloaks, “Leave.”

You watched as the guards were lead out of the hall by four other guards that bowed upon entering. Looking back up to your husband you chuckled, “I still think stable duty would have worked as well.”

“They disgraced you,” Thranduil started, coming to a stop at your side. “I do not wish to see them within these halls.”

“As a last decree, I wish for the young guard that found me be given a spot on my personal guard.”

Thranduil smiled, turning so he could hold out his arm for you to take. “It will be done,” he started, pressing a kiss to your temple, “In the morning. You’re relaxing day, it seems, has been ruined.”

“Thank you, my love,” you nodded, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow.


End file.
